


Reaching

by UrzaHemlock



Series: Bristle [2]
Category: Daughter of the Lilies (Webcomic)
Genre: Based on Author art of same name, F/M, Post Reveal, Some fluff and cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25761718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrzaHemlock/pseuds/UrzaHemlock
Summary: Based on the DotL authors artwork titled Reaching. Its time for some kissing.
Relationships: Brent/Thistle (Daughter of the Lilies)
Series: Bristle [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868878
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Reaching

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this for over a year and a half but I wanted to wait until I finished the reveal fic. This takes place many months later and there are quite a few little things that happen prior to this that I will be writing eventually.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Okay, that definitely was not what she had been planning to say and that definitely was _not_ an answer to Brent’s “Have you seen my whetstone?” It was all that stupid books fault. And Lyra. Lyra, who had thought it a great idea to give Thistle a book about…well...

Stuff. Like kissing. She had only made it through chapter two before burying it in the bottom of her bag.

She could only hope that Brent hadn’t noticed her slip-up. But when his head whipped towards her fast enough that she was afraid he’d get whiplash, she knew she had no such luck. She was going to kill Lyra.

“Really? Why?”

She answered that with a raised eyebrow and a vague gesture at herself.

“Oh, yeah…sorry.” Brent scratched absently at his stomach. It was an unconscious nervous tick she actually found kind of adorable. She had started finding a lot of things adorable about him in the past few months actually. Like the way his ears turned pink whenever he got flustered. They were pink now.

“I want to kiss you.”

That response…she hadn’t been expecting.

Now _she_ felt flustered…and maybe a bit hopeful. They had been dancing around it for weeks now. Brent never pushed her, but she also could never get the courage to initiate it herself. Even if she had wanted to since before Lyra had brought her that ridiculous book. She wanted to now. Before she could second guess herself, before she could talk herself out of it yet again, she stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. She let her hood fall back when she lifted her head to look up at him.

“Then kiss me.”

\-----

Brent had no idea what to do with his hands.

Here he was, standing in front of the woman he had crushed on, confessed to, accidentally attacked, earned forgiveness and trust from, and was now standing in front of him with her eyes closed and face upturned, after he had blurted out that he wanted to kiss her…

…and he had no idea what to do.

And looking down at her face, knowing the trust she was placing in him at this moment and the moments leading up to this had his heart racing in an almost panic. He wouldn’t deny that he had been hoping for this for so long, had wanted to kiss her even before he knew who she was beneath her hood.

All that had deepened the more he had gotten to know her, learn about her again after she had been revealed. All the charming little traits he had discovered. The way she flicked her bangs out of the way while she read. The quirk in her lips when she started on about botany. How she unconsciously tapped a nail when she was impatient. And that she wouldn’t take his shit if he did something particularly reckless.

Everything over the past few months had him falling harder.

And after months of dancing around each other, of Brent waiting for Thistle to push the boundaries when she was ready, here he was.

Worried about where to put his hands.

Because he didn’t want to push her more than she was comfortable with even though all he wanted was to pull her against him and breath her in. To crush his lips to hers with all the pent-up adoration from the past two years of longing.

But he didn’t. Instead, he brought one hand to hover near her waist, the other drifting slowly up to the mask covering her lower face. He let his thumb hover over the edge of the fabric when her hand came up between them. Her eyes barely fluttered open as her hand hesitated over his arm. The same arm she had once healed, that still bore the scars from all those years ago.

He waited, not pulling away and not moving to push forward. Waited as her eyes flickered to his face and back to his arm. Waited as she took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes again before placing her hand on his arm. But she didn’t push him away. The claws against his skin pulled his arm that final fraction closer, bringing his thumb to smooth over the soft fabric pulled against her cheeks. And with a slowness that made every nerve in his body twitch, he hooked his thumb under her mask and pulled it down to fall against her collar.

Still she didn’t push him away. Her other hand reached up tentatively, claws skimming over the fabric of his shirt as she hesitated to place it against his own waist. The moment her palm settled against him, every nerve in his body wanted to jump.

With the fear that any moment she might pull way, the hand hovering over her waist smoothed over her coat and settled against her back. The touch was feather-light and the thought flitted through his head that she was so small, his hand nearly spanning her whole lower back. The hand on her jaw could so easily tangle with her hair without much movement.

So small, but so strong. Yet all this time so scared to let him in.

Her fingers tightened against his arm, pulling his hand closer to smooth over her cheek and jaw. It took everything in Brent to move slowly, to place the lightest of pressure against her lower back and draw her closer. To watch every curve of her face as he leaned down for any sign that he should stop, even when his lips hovered just a whisper from her own, when one breath caused her scent to invade his system, a mix of rich soil and pine moss and parchment…

Then she raised her face that last fraction of an inch and every thought in his head came to a stop.

So small, and soft, and perfect.

And she tasted like mushrooms and garlic. Brent would have chuckled if it hadn’t meant the possibility of ending this kiss. He wouldn’t risk that for the world. Instead, the hand on her back pulled her closer until her slight weight pressed lightly against him. The hand previously holding onto his arm reached up to smooth against the back of his neck and the scrape of her claws sent a shiver down his spine. His hand tangled in her hair, angling her head as he pressed his lips more urgently against hers. Her hand tightened against his waist and pulled him in.

Gods, he didn’t want this to end.

The prick of her teeth on his bottom lip sent a bolt of lightning through him and his hold on her waist tightened until she was pressed firmly against him. Her scent surrounded him, mixing with the scent of leather that always clung to him. He growled against her lips as her hand gripped his short hair, claws scraping against his scalp.

She was perfect.

But a kiss couldn’t last forever and they did have to breathe. Unfortunately. But the look on Thistle’s face when he pulled his lips away, the flush of her dark skin and the dazed expression on her face, was almost enough to distract him. Almost.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?”

Thistle’s face flushed even darker. But before she could manage to speak, the door swung open and Lyra sauntered into the room. Thistle jumped away the same moment Brent did. Lyra ignored them in favor of stalking towards the bed by the far wall. That, however, lasted all of five seconds.

“About damn time, that felt like forever.” Digging through her pack, she grumbled curses. Brent was pretty sure his face was as flushed as Thistle’s at this point. “Seriously, I’ve been waiting for a chance to get my lucky dice for the past ten minutes. Take a breather you two.” Brent took a deep breath, trying to resist the urge to throw something at her.

She finally found her dice and made to leave. But just before the door closed, she stuck her head in again.

“Just give me a heads up when you get to chapter 7, Thistle. I don’t want to walk in on that.”

Whatever that meant, it made Thistle hide her flushed face behind her hands.

He was going to kill Lyra one of these days.


End file.
